


Tit for Tat

by hobbeshalftail3469, LulaIsAKitten



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Accidental seeing of boobies, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Shopping, Tom Hiddleston is a fine actor, boobies, deliberate seeing of boobies, his backside is decent too!, this is just a piece of silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:15:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24770707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbeshalftail3469/pseuds/hobbeshalftail3469, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LulaIsAKitten/pseuds/LulaIsAKitten
Summary: Robin accidentally sees Ilsa’s breasts, so decides to even up the score by flashing her friend, with unintended consequences.
Relationships: Ilsa Herbert & Cormoran Strike, Ilsa Herbert/Nick Herbert, Robin Ellacott & Ilsa Herbert, Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 55
Kudos: 46





	1. Tit

**Author's Note:**

> I saw [this](https://lulacat3.tumblr.com/post/621175055096987648/the-bbc-website-ran-a-little-piece-on-most) and threw it to Hobbes, and this piece was born. It is but silliness.
> 
> I (Lula) always forget to clarify! Chapter 1 by Lula, 2 and 3 by Hobbes :)

“Right,” Ilsa cried as she slammed the front door of number 80 Octavia Street behind them. “Who’s showering first?”

She and Robin had had a long, hot day of shopping and lunch, and had decided that Robin wouldn’t bother going home and coming back out for curry night, but would come straight to the Herberts’ and shower there. It was already five o’clock, so she’d have been pushed for time anyway.

“Well, I need to sort out what I’m going to wear,” Robin replied as they carried their purchases through to the kitchen. “Oh, that’s new.” She paused to admire the mirror on the wall behind the dining table. It was made of two curving panels that sat side by side, slim and vertical and making a lazy S shape together. They sat flat against the wall, almost invisible from the side, but making a striking feature as the women entered the room properly.

“Oh, yeah, we’ve had that ages but Nick finally got around to putting it up last weekend,” Ilsa replied. “He didn’t half grumble, though, there was a lot of measuring to get the pieces aligned just right. I like the way it reflects the light round the room.”

Robin nodded. “Yeah, it’s a nice contemporary look. I like it.”

Ilsa grinned. “Thanks, so do I! If you need to sort what you’re wearing, shall I go and jump in the shower first quickly? I can sort you a towel and so on while I’m up there.”

“Good plan. I’ll put the kettle on.”

“Or open the wine!” Ilsa called as she bustled back out again, heading for the stairs. Robin’s laughter followed her up.

Robin hummed as she pottered around the kitchen. She felt so at home here since she had been the Herberts’ house guest, and she liked knowing where everything lived. She put the kettle on, and went to check that there was wine in the fridge. She took the bottle she’d grabbed from Waitrose from one of her shopping bags and set it in the fridge door to chill too.

She paused a moment, looking at Ilsa’s already cold bottle. It was a brand they both liked, and would taste delicious after a long, hot day. Stuff it, she thought. It was after five, and they’d earned it. She reached two wine glasses down from the shelf and poured them each a small glass. They could have mugs of tea as well, if they wanted.

She laid out her new purchases on the dining table, sipping her wine. They’d spend some time in a lingerie boutique, choosing bras and matching knickers, Ilsa giggling about whether Nick would like this one or that, and Robin vaguely wondering when anyone except her was ever going to see her underwear. She’d managed all of two dates in the six months since she and Matthew had split up, and neither of them had got anywhere near admiring her bra.

Someone new would come along in time, she kept telling herself. Someone tall, she’d decided, so she could wear all the heels she wanted. Someone with presence. Someone masculine, not as skinny as Matthew. Someone strong, with big hands to—

Stop it. Robin huffed a laugh at her wandering thoughts, and turned her attention to her new clothes. She’d laid out a couple of tops on the dining table, trying to choose, and glanced at her watch. Nick wouldn’t be home from work until six, Ilsa had said, so she set out her new underwear next to them.

The white top, she decided, would go better with the navy trousers she was already wearing, so it would have to be the coral-coloured bra and not the black.

Decision made, she packed the rest of her purchases away again and went to set the bags next to the wall by the front door, under the coat rack, so that she wouldn’t forget them later. She went back to the kitchen, poured hot water onto the tea bags in the pot, and regarded her sartorial choices with a frisson of delight. It was always nice to have new clothes.

Robin wondered exactly how fast Ilsa meant when she said fast shower, and decided to go and find out. They’d need plenty of time for faffing with hair and make up before the men arrived. Strike had been told to arrive at six too, although he would likely be late as usual - especially as she knew he was spending the day at his desk. He was working on a complex fraud case, and had rung Ilsa twice during the course of the afternoon to ask questions. The second time Robin had answered the phone and told him good-naturedly that it was Saturday and he should be watching football, but he’d grumbled that the case was snagging in his brain, annoying him that he couldn’t piece the answer together. She’d laughed fondly and told him he’d better either solve it or put it from his mind by six o’clock.

Smiling to herself at the thought of her big, burly partner, of the evening ahead of her that she always loved so much, with perfect company and delicious food, Robin gathered up her things from the dining table. With a bit of juggling, she managed to carry the top, her new underwear and two glasses up the stairs. The Herberts’ bedroom door stood open and she poked her head in.

Ilsa was stood by the bed in her trousers, trying to decide between the two bras she had bought that afternoon. She turned as Robin entered, and Robin’s eyes fell involuntary on her friend’s naked torso.

“Oops, sorry,” she giggled, averting her gaze and going to set the wine glasses on the chest of drawers at the foot of the bed.

Ilsa laughed and grabbed the nearest bra and began to pull it on. “You’ve seen most of me today anyway while we were trying on - now you’ve seen the girls in their full glory!” She chuckled. “Used to be slightly perkier glory when I was your age, I admit.”

“Nothing wrong with their glory now,” Robin retorted. “Not that I was looking, but, you know—” she grinned, and Ilsa waved her away.

“I don’t mind if you did, I’m not prudish about that kind of thing. Your towel is in the bathroom, by the way, and my hair dryer is just there on the dressing table. I’m going to pop down and start getting the kitchen ready for curry night, I’ll come back up and finish my hair off in a bit.”

Robin nodded. “Thank you,” she said, smiling and starting to lay her chosen top and underwear on the bed.

Ilsa pulled on a loose, slouchy grey top, picked up her wine and went out of the door with a little wave, and Robin turned her attention to getting ready.

She showered swiftly, washing her hair with Ilsa’s gorgeous expensive shampoo and conditioner, and wondering if her salary might extend to such luxuries. Her hair smelled amazing and felt like silk between her fingers as she rinsed the conditioner out.

She stepped out of the shower and dried her hair a little, then wrapped the towel around herself. She was hungry now, looking forward to a curry. She moved through to the bedroom, humming to herself, and paused to take a few more sips of wine before pulling on her new knickers and trousers.

The wine was delicious, a crisp, dry Sauvignon with a rich aftertaste. She took a few more sips while she removed the tags from her new bra and fiddled with the straps, adjusting it for comfort, until it looked right.

She dropped the towel and looked down at herself as she picked up the bra to pull on, her mind drifting back to her earlier conversion with Ilsa. She was curvier than Ilsa was, but Ilsa certainly didn’t have anything to worry about in the perkiness department. Robin was pretty sure her boobs sat at the same angle - she might be younger, but she had more for gravity to have taken effect upon.

Slightly tipsy from half a glass of wine on an empty stomach, Robin giggled as a sudden idea came to her. Why not even up the score? With a wicked grin, she picked up her towel again and headed for the stairs.

In the kitchen, Ilsa was sat staring idly at her laptop, waiting for Strike to send her an email. She’d rung his mobile to ask him to bring his whisky bottle if he and Nick were going to want a dram later - Nick’s bottle had been finished at the last curry night and they’d forgotten to replace it - and, receiving no answer and seeing her laptop sat there, she’d put a Skype call through to his work address. Sure enough, he was still at his desk.

“Corm, you have to be here in like half an hour,” she’d scolded him.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m nearly ready. Can I just email you these figures?”

Ilsa shook her head fondly. “You can, but I’m not looking at them tonight. Stop working, it’s Saturday and it’s curry night!”

Strike merely grunted. “Hang on, trying to attach the right one. This bloody Skype window is in the way.”

Ilsa was waiting, idly running her fingers through her damp hair, when Robin marched in, oddly clad in a towel with her trousers underneath, her cheeks pink.

Ilsa frowned at her as she moved to stand behind the laptop, grinning. “What are you—”

“Tit for tat!” Robin cried, laughing, and dropped the towel. She shimmied a little to jiggle her breasts at her friend. “See? No more or less perky!”

Ilsa squeaked and burst out giggling, her hand over her mouth. “Okay, point taken!”

Their laughter was interrupted by the sound of Strike’s deep voice emanating from the laptop. “Jesus Christ! Ilsa, angle up a bit!”

It took Ilsa a split second to fully grasp the situation. Behind her own image in the Skype window, she could see topless Robin reflected in the mirror that she had inadvertently sat in front of to make the call.

Robin paused in confusion, hearing Strike’s voice and not immediately noticing the laptop screen below her own reflection.

“Robin, you’re in the mirror on my screen!” Ilsa exclaimed. “And Corm, you’re on speaker - I didn’t bother with my headphones!”

It took Robin a few moments to understand. Her cheeky grin changed to a look of horror and she snatched up the towel with a shriek. The women stared at one another for a moment, and then, scarlet-cheeked, Robin rushed back towards the stairs.

Hand over her mouth, Ilsa turned back to the laptop, her eyes dancing with mirth. Strike was staring at her, eyebrows raised.

“Long story,” she told him wryly. “She accidentally saw me earlier coming out of the shower, so—” She stopped, and grinned at her old friend. “Close your mouth, Corm, you’re drooling.”

Strike cleared his throat, and she could see him trying to wrestle his thoughts back to the task at hand.

“Right, well, er, I’ve sent the email,” he managed.

Ilsa laughed. “Okay. So grab the whisky and get your arse over here, Nick will be on his way home now.”

“Right,” he said again. “Er, right, yeah. I’ll see you in a bit.” He looked bemused.

Giggling, Ilsa signed off the call and went to check that Robin hadn’t died of mortification. She took the wine bottle with her.


	2. Sorry / Not sorry!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OK, Robin is mortified.  
> Cormoran has just about managed to stop open mouthed drooling and they have to find a way forwards.  
> Nick is gloriously oblivious.  
> Ilsa comes up with a suggestion to even things up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tom Hiddleston does have a decidedly delectable bottie......he's a damn fine actor too!

Robin was rocking on her knees on the landing when Nick came in a short while later.  
She’d dragged on the top she’d decided to wear, downed the first glass of wine Ilsa brought to her, whilst barely managing to stifle her laughter, and had made her way through almost half of the second glass of wine.

“You OK Robin?” Nick asked, striding over her into his and Ilsa’s bedroom.  
He was in the process of changing his shirt when Robin bowled into him, her fists battering against him in a somewhat pathetic manner, and not in any way causing him injury.  
“You buggering bastard, Nick!”

Ilsa came up the stairs in time to see her husband cowering his bemused face slightly under his forearms, whilst trying to suppress laughter as Robin swung fruitlessly at him.

“What the hell have I done?” he shrieked, glancing at Robin and then Ilsa for clarification.

“You finally got round to hanging that mirror,” Ilsa explained.

“OK…...er…...why is Robin hitting me though?”

A deep voice sounded from downstairs, “I ‘aven’t told him!”

Robin gave an extended growl of “Ohhhhh God…...he’s down there….and he’s seen…...oh godddddd!” before flopping backwards on the double bed, covering her face with her forearm.

There was further creaking on the stairs and the unmistakable, uneven tread of Strike’s footsteps sounded ascending to the small landing.

Nick continued to look confused whilst opening a drawer to locate a polo shirt.

Ilsa pointed at Nick and wordlessly indicated that he should leave Robin and Cormoran to it.  
As he left and passed Strike on the stairs, Robin heard his audible gasp and “What? Both? Full boobie jiggle? Jesus...it’s quite impressive that Corm managed the stairs!”  
She also heard the sound of a sharp slap and a muffled “Ouch!” before being aware of Strike’s rumbling cough.

“I’m very sorry that you heard my response to what was clearly an example of bad timing on my part and error on yours, Robin,” he stated in what was clearly a speech he’d rehearsed.   
The wording seemed very precise.

No apology for actually seeing her naked boob jiggling!

No regret of what he actually DID say or see!

Robin remained groaning and clutching alternately between her face and waist with her arms; her knees bent into an almost foetal position on Nick and Ilsa’s bed.

Strike was battling with the sight of Robin writhing about on a bed infront of him with the knowledge he now had seared into his brain (damn his photographic memory) of the exact size, shape and colour of her breasts and their soft, pink nipples.

He forced himself to avoid looking directly at the front of her top, but she was rolling around too much….it wasn’t safe for him to remain trying not to look….because he was beginning to HAVE to look in order to avoid…...them.

Oh God!  
Work was potentially going to be a bloody nightmare if they couldn't get passed this.....quickly!

He'd been mesmerised by the image on his screen, and then mortified by what fell out of his mouth - although to be fair it could have been so much worse based on his thoughts at the time!  
He couldn't in all honestly say that he regretted what he'd seen - Jesus, Robin's tits were about as perfect as he hated to admit he'd previously imagined....or fantasised about.

He let out a deep sigh.

“I’m going back downstairs; I’m pouring you a glass of wine; I’m gonna help Ilsa and Nick with the curry and we are going to…..eat….and talk and….”

Robin finally spoke, “What? Pretend that never happened and you didn’t see my naked chest?” She glared up at him from the bed making it more difficult for Strike to form non trouser based thoughts.

With a strangled groan he huffed, “Look, if it makes you feel any better I can flash you topless! Then we’d be even!” the shrug and wrinkle nosed grin he gave her was adorable.

Robin couldn’t prevent the snigger which erupted into a full blown belly laugh at the idea of Strike’s hairy chest and ridiculously crumpled and soft smile.

“Oh GOD!!! Can you please erase what you saw?” she asked, wriggling around to stand up.

He gave a noisy exhalation, “Erm….not possible! Not unless you gauge out my eyes I’m afraid….and maybe remove part of my brain!”

They clumped down the stairs.

“Why can’t you? Just pretend either i wasn’t there, or…..maybe that I was wearing these clothes instead!” Robin suggested, shrugging, palms up as she watched Cormoran shake his head infront of her.

“Robin…..I’m a heterosexual man with a pulse…..I saw your tits…...that image is ingrained….it’s going nowhere!” he stated as they wandered into the kitchen where Ilsa was filling wine glasses and flicking the lids on bottled beers.

Robin pouted and crossed her arms infront of her chest.

“I’m really sorry you’re uncomfortable, Robin,” Strike continued.

Ilsa flashed her friend a lip biting wince, “You need something like that episode of Friends…..sort of getting even!”

Nick came through with packages of take away curry which had just been delivered.  
“What have I missed?” he asked.

“We need something that’s the equivalent of a boob flash that Corm can do to even it up for Robin!” Ilsa stated, taking one of the bags and starting to unpack containers.

“I offered to flash her my chest!” Strike chuckled, holding up his palms in mock surrender.

Nick huffed, “That’s not equivalent!” he stated, “It’s got to be something…..lingering…...you know, an image that hangs around,” he stated shrugging and regarding his wife’s expression of mild awe at her husband's immediate grasp of the situation.

“Nick’s right!” she continued, pointing with her wine glass for effect, “Flash of boobs versus flash of male chest is not a fair comparison. You need one of those mental images that….you know…...we ladies enjoy!” and she giggled and waggled her eyebrows slightly girlishly.

“OK then,” Strike drained his beer and popped the lid on a second, “What images do you ladies enjoy? Greasy overalls? Oiled up pecs?”

Nick gave a loud, eugh sound, “Nah….not on you Oggy…..too much hair! You’d look something that got rescued after an oil rig disaster!”

Robin sniggered despite herself.

“Something like a tuxedo….with a loosened bow tie,” Ilsa mused, her eyes becoming slightly dreamy.

Nick coughed and gave his wife a rather pointed look, “Or just a dick pic?” he stated but winced at the loud screeches and fake retches of the other three.

Strike lurched off into the utility room on the pretext of getting spare bottles of lager to put into the fridge to chill, thoughts running through his head about Robin’s breasts; his own hairy and recently beefed up chest thanks to swimming and free weights at the gym; back to Robins glorious breasts; how she hadn’t appeared to avoid his gaze initially when he'd appeared in Nick and Ilsa's bedroom, and had seemed to give him a ‘so? You’ve seen them...and? What do you reckon?’ look.

He bent over to free bottles from the cardboard holder thing next to the fridge and giggled lightly at Robin’s next comment which referred back to Nick's earlier suggestion.

Robin shook her head along with Ilsa, “NO! I’m sorry….but pictures of dangling male genitalia really don’t do it in the way that jiggly boobs do for you guys!”

Ilsa however lifted her index finger aloft, “I’ve got it! A nice, tight, tensed up naked arse shot! Hiddleston-esque!”

Both Ilsa and Robin exchanged rather throaty and delectable growling noises as they met each others’ raised eyebrow - both had been texting each other whilst watching The Night Manager again….and Tom Hiddleston’s backside had been a shared highlight!

“Oooh, and he even said he’d asked for increased arse coverage on some film he did, to even up the male female sex scene thing,” Nick stated, meeting the questioning gaze of his wife, “It was on Graham Norton….and it comes up on Youtube as a most watched clip for some reason!” he quipped, batting back with a pointed glare to her and Robins' mock innocent faces.  
Yeah, they were bad feminists!

“However, having seen Oggy’s backside on numerous occasions can I request that if we’re venturing there we wait until after the curry!” Nick grinned.

All three turned and caught sight of Cormoran engaged in a second bent over fumble at the wine rack, this time locating a bottle of white wine, which he held aloft and turned, open mouthed as his intended comment of, “Will this do for you two?” stalled.  
Three slightly different expressions met him.

One was an impish, wrinkle nosed grin beneath a pair of glasses.  
One was a tongue in cheek grinning nod.  
The third was a slightly dreamy eyed, blush cheeked, full lipped pout combined with a soft hum.

“What?” Strike stated, glancing around all three faces, lingering slightly longer on Robin’s as he used his detectivey spidey senses to try and work out what he’d missed.

Ilsa moved and spoke first, tapping her husband on the shoulder, “Tell him later,” she laughed, heading over to the table.  
“Why me?” Nick complained before joining his wife and Robin. Strike was the last to sit down, mumbling under his breath something about, “leave the room for five bloody minutes and christ knows what the fuck’s going on….bunch of idiots!”

Ilsa kept breaking into spontaneous giggles as she recalled the incident on her laptop between Robin and Strike.   
Both flashed her pointed stares; a mixture of anguish and, as the meal progressed, mild frustration.  
The tension however was broken by Nick, who sensed that the mood had finally calmed to acceptance of the events.

“Robin, can I interest you in a couple of these?” and the trio at the table turned to regard him holding two, circular poppadums, one level with each man boob.  
Robin’s choked spluttering of rice before dissolving into laughter sparked off the others, and Nick made Ilsa need to leave the table to search for tissues and something to clean her glasses when he wiggled the things in one direction whilst jiggling his shoulders in the other and asking whether he could “dip these in your lime pickle!”

As the hilarity calmed, Nick went in search of refills for their drinks; and to locate his wife, leaving Strike and Robin still in the after throes of delirious chortling.

“I’m sorry,” Strike stated honestly, his eyes were crinkled from mirth....and probably from several beers! 

Robin sighed and waved her hand, “S’Ok,” she replied, giving him playful whack on the shoulder as he purposefully dragged his eyes to gaze at her chest and missed his mouth with his beer. “Oh, you….bugger! I'll get you back!” she laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter left to be posted tomorrow......please remember that this is intentionally silly!


	3. Tat!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion - and before anyone says "Strike would never do that!" OK, so maybe he wouldn't.......but just imagine if he did!!!! And Tom B definitely did a naked bootie dance in Donkey Punch!  
> This is daft fun....intentionally so....go with it and have a giggle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all do that hair ruffle thing Robin does when we see ourselves on Zoom or Teams...all of us.....!

Robin had almost managed to put the events of Saturday out of her head, but come Monday morning was conscious that she had to face Strike….without the benefit of a couple of units of alcohol swirling around their systems to break the tension and render the situation amusing rather than mortifying.

However, she thought back to what was being referred to as ‘Mirrorcam-gate’ and the rather delectable glances Strike had been casting her as the evening and the effect of alcohol wore on at the Herberts.  
And then on the way home, before they’d split at the tube, he’d given her a soft, slightly blurry, crinkle lipped smile.

“Do’you need me to even the score then?”

She’d returned his smile and cast a “I’ll get back to you on that!” over her shoulder as she descended the escalator.  
And so now, having spent a good deal of Sunday considering her options she had made a decision…..it could be an insane one; but it created a possibility.

Strike had not managed to spend more than fourteen consecutive minutes thinking about Robin’s tits since seeing them reflected in the mirror on his laptop screen on Saturday evening.  
It was now Monday morning and he seriously HAD to stop it.

She’d be walking through the office door handing him a coffee and the post in about ten minutes time….and he couldn’t shut the door to his office on her - that would be far too odd and out of character - and he really needed to not drift off into varied scenarios about the sight of her glorious breasts whilst he was working.   
He’d already had to throw away the copy of the Metro he’d taken into the bog when he’d started doodling rather inappropriately on it!

He glanced at the schedule for the day ahead.  
Sadly not much on - a full schedule of clients and casework would have suited him better; made him have to focus on something other than Robin.

Her familiar tread sounded on the metal staircase and he randomly opened an email, studying the apparent merits of some company’s toner and ink provision as she appeared in front of his desk.  
“Morning,” she stated; in a slightly more guarded than usual manner, and waited as he composed his features and met her gaze.

He nodded towards the cup of take out, uber strength coffee she’d placed on his desk, as always.  
“Thanks…..d’you wanna sort out the week? Although it’s pretty sparse today….nothing really until a catch up with Barclay at 2,” he added, thankful for the hot beverage.

Robin shrugged vaguely, “I was planning on having an inbox blitz. How about you focus on cleaning up the saved folders….especially the camera roll. I think we’ve got almost everything stored in the appropriate folders, there must be loads of duplicates.”

Strike nodded, thankful of a task which would enable him to focus and work methodically; which played to his strengths as he was fully aware Robin knew!

“Oh...and I thought about it…..and yeah!” she added with a jaunty quirk of her plump lips.

“What?”

“Evening up the score! Ball’s in your court….although maybe that’s an inappropriate turn of phrase!” she winced as she retreated from the room leaving Strike open mouthed and unusually speechless behind his desk.

Having taken several large gulps of his coffee; before realising that it was a good deal hotter than ideal for swigging down; he sat back in his chair, resting his hands on the arms.

Had Robin basically just told him she wanted him to flash her?

And if so in what way?

She’d made it pretty clear that shirt off chest shot was not enough; but front trouser arrangement was too far!

His thoughts returned to the curry night discussion….what was it that Ilsa had suggested?   
Nick had jokingly filled him in on the whole tuxedo, junk, arse topic. And Robin’s eyes had done that thing they did when she and Ilsa discussed Tom Hiddleston….granted she could just have been thinking about Tom Hiddleston’s arse…..but she might have been considering…..his?  
Arse wise his wasn’t bad…..he knew that because several of his bed fellows had mentioned it in the past...notably Ciara Porter - and she was a model and therefore someone whose opinion was valid in terms of arse attractiveness!

Hmmmm…..  
He’d just showered….they weren’t expecting anyone into the office…..

Robin had made herself relatively comfortable at her desk and had of course fired off an email to Ilsa stating that she had heeded her advice to, “Grab the bull by the horns and fucking do something woman!”

Her latte was two thirds finished and she had cleared almost 100 emails by default of them all being scam and trying to sell something - one of the drawbacks of frequently doing ridiculous searches online meant that they built up quite odd links and received various email suggestions which required regular upkeep.  
She’d heard Strike moving about in his office and he’d closed over his door at some point, no doubt in order to make a phone call, although come to think of it she hadn’t heard him speaking.

The video call incoming icon showed up on the corner of her screen - Spanner had installed and transferred all of their office system across to Microsoft Teams, meaning that they could share and edit files more easily and securely amongst the larger group of colleagues, and they also used the facility for face to face meetings when Barclay and Hutchins were out of the office.

Robin sucked in her cheeks as she saw that the call was from Strike.  
She remained seated and glanced towards the other office wondering if he’d had some sort of accident involving his leg…..but surely she’d have heard that?

She clicked on the icon and gave a quick ruffle to her hair as she saw the small image of herself in the lower right hand corner of Strike’s image filling the screen.

S : Robin? Right….in the name of settling the score….tit for tat if you like….although…..OK, unfortunate choice of words.

R : What the hell? Cormoran…..…WHAT THE HELL????

Robin’s eyes were wrinkled as she saw his face disappear momentarily as the screen was instead filled with the sight of his navy trousers.  
She could make out the sight of his back pocket, and the smooth brown leather of his belt, and she could hear him, his voice more muffled now, but the metallic clank of his belt buckle was clear as a bell.

S : I’m not Tom Hiddleston….but here goes!

In his office Strike raised his eyes heavenwards and allowed his trousers to drop and pool at his knees.  
He could tell by the whimper Robin emitted that he’d judged the height correctly and had managed to angle the camera on his laptop to get his backside in shot.

R : Cormoran? What the hell are you doing?

S : What does it fucking look like?  
His face briefly came into view, his eyes mischievous, before the sight of his slightly crinkled boxer shorts once more filled the screen.

R : OK…..but so far this would only even things up if you'd seen me in my bra....and you very much didn't! So come on…..give me the full Hiddleston!

In his office Strike shook his head and muttered something that Robin thought might have been, “What the fucking hell are you doing you ancient, one legged cu….”

Whatever the final part of his mutterings were Robin didn’t hear as she saw his large hands slide down the fabric and bunch up the fabric of his shirt tails, giving her the most gloriously well lit and close up view of his fuzzily haired, and rather delectable arse.

Robin struggled to make her mouth form any words or even recognisable sounds.   
Christ he had a nice arse!  
Hiddleston definitely had a rival!

C: In the name of complete equality and settling scores then since your tits were definitely…..active shall we say….

He then proceeded to tweak his glutes, creating delectable dimples into each arse cheek, and a small shimmy of his hips gave her the most glorious booty dance.

Robin was incredibly glad that only his backside was in view, and that he couldn't see her face, as she was really struggling to maintain any kind of composure her end of the screen.  
She had leaned forwards in her desk chair and her hands had alternately clenched into fists, reached out to ‘stroke’, met each other repeatedly in a flurry of silent ‘seal claps’ as she tried to ensure she didn’t emit any of the inward squeals she was trying to contain.

Cormoran could hear small emissions of what he hoped very much were appreciative, or at least highly amused, expressions from Robin on her end of the video meeting.  
So engrossed was he in trying to present his bum to the best of his ability that he didn’t hear Robin’s soft tread and was shocked at the clearing of a female throat behind him.

He issued a loud, “SHIT!” and turned fully around without thinking, watching as Robin’s amused expression became one of open mouthed paralysis.

“I was…..oh blimey…...I was….err... going to say…...we’re even!” she stammered, her eyes unable to be dragged away from the unexpected and impressive sight of Cormoran. “But actually…..I think this might make me up on the deal!”

She managed to meet his mortified gaze and waggled her eyebrows, making his exposed, half hard cock twitch further.

He let out a strangled groan as her eyes returned to his groin and the sight of him hardening to full erection under her gaze.  
“Well stop looking at it!” he wailed, “I won’t be able to get it under control!”

“I must admit, this isn’t how I’d ever imagined seeing your cock for the first time,” Robin purred, walking slowly towards him as he began to fumble with his clothes and started to pull them back up to cover himself.

Part way through the process he paused and regarded Robin’s unwavering blue-grey eyes.  
“What do’you mean?....not how you’ve imagined seeing my cock? Ellacott, have I been paying you to sit daydreaming about my naked, Adonis-like body all this time?” he asked sexily, his face doing that ‘I could play James Bond’ thing with his eyebrow and lip.

Robin had the grace to blush and wrinkle her nose, somewhat perfectly in Strike’s view.  
“Not ALL this time……,” she smirked, “Although at this very moment there isn’t really anything you could say that would make me focus on a case!”

“Well, I reckon we definitely need to even the score again, because….you know…...I’ve seen your, quite gorgeous tits….whereas you have now seen pretty much everything! You know tit for tat…..” he smiled.   
There was a mirth and confidence to him that was just alarmingly sexy - sexy was sexy; but sexy plus funny ramped up the sexiness at least tenfold! - and gave Robin an equal dollop of candid sexuality.

“There’s nothing ‘tatty’ about any of that,” Robin vaguely indicated his crotch area and grinned, “But I’m not stripping off in the office.”

“Right!” Come on then,” he scribbled a hasty message on a piece of paper, grabbed his keys and was striding towards the staircase to his flat, grasping her hand firmly but warmly on his way past, his boxers tenting through his still unfastened flies.

Robin giggled and did a little, playful gallop to follow him, glancing with alarm at the note he was attaching to the outer office door.  
“Cormoran? Gone to Lunch? It’s 9.30 in the morning!” she squealed as he briefly let go of her hand in order to twist the key in the lock.

“Well I’m sorry but, back in 5 minutes isn’t gonna cut it, Robin…...not for me anyway!” and he regarded her as he slid the key from the lock, pocketed it and slipped his hand around the back of her skull.

Robin stepped back a little, her hand sliding against the top of the banister finial and both gave soft guffaws.  
“This is where it all began,” she whispered.

“Seems appropriate then……..finally,” and he leaned forwards, into her tilting chin, meeting her waiting lips with his own.

Their first kiss was a giggling, slightly self conscious affair, which would never be described as text book…..but seemed to fit perfectly with the somewhat backwards way they’d eventually come to this point.

“Do you want me to take the sign down?” he asked, grazing his finger tips across her forearm.

Robin shook her head and drew her arm back as she took steps backwards, tangling her fingers into his as they met.  
“Nope……..I want to settle the score once and for all!” she purred. “Don’t forget I’ve still got one up on you!”

He gave the filthiest snigger she’d ever heard, “Well get up there….and gimme a minute and I’ll try and even things up!”


End file.
